Edward inclined his head, his dark eyes lingering on her. “Miss Alice. It is a pleasure to see you again.”
“And you, Your Grace,” she said quietly, though her words faltered as she noticed the dark circles under Edward’s eyes and the gaunt stretch of his skin over his cheekbones. Concern flickered within her, but she clamped her lips tight—it was not her place to ask.
“The Rotunda awaits, and we’ve already missed the opening waltz,” Benedict declared, offering his arm to Penelope with a flourish. The two strolled ahead, their laughter and light conversation trailing behind them as they took to the Grand Walk.
Quietly, Alice followed, with Edward falling one step behind. His silence was a touch unnerving, but she kept her resolve not to speak out of turn.
The Grand Walk was beautifully lit, lanterns casting a warm glow along the gravel path, but the true spectacle lay ahead. The Rotunda stood resplendent, its dome adorned with hundreds of glowing globe lamps. The lights illuminated the second-floor balcony, where a twenty-piece orchestra played a lilting Viennese waltz that spilled out into the night.
A velvet rope and footmen guarded the entrance, checking the invitations studiously before allowing the guests to enter. As they stepped inside, the next waltz began, and Benedict swept Penelope off to the dancefloor.
Alice lingered at the edge of the room, a rather familiar nook—as all nooks were—standing far from the spotlight, smiling as she watched her sister and the man of the hour fall into an intimate waltz. Once, long ago, it had not been uncommon for Alice to remain on the sidelines while watching the dancers shine.
But this time, it was different.
She was acutely aware of Edward’s presence beside her. He stood partially cloaked in the shadows cast by one of the great columns, his brooding form unmoving.
Summoning her courage, she stole a glance at him and finally broke the quiet. “A hundred lights and you manage to find the one corner with shadow to glower like a gargoyle.”
“It is an inherited skill.” Edward’s lips curved into a faint, sardonic smile, as he watched the couple swirl lightly in the waltz. “I do my best work in the shadows.”
Plucking a fan from her reticule, Alice snapped it open, the humidity around her stifling. “I do remember moments when you did much better in the light.”
Edward said nothing, though a flicker of something crossed his face—surprise, perhaps, or remembrance.
The pace of the waltz shifted. Benedict laughed as he spun Penelope in a dizzying turn, grasped her waist and lifted her intothe air; her sister’s breathless laugh made a part of Alice’s heart ache… if only she had that very thing.
Would a life of solitude truly suit me better than a life of unreciprocated love? If the last month and tonight have shown anything, it is that sometimes it feels easier to be alone and not reminded of what I could be missing…
Two gentlemen approached Alice for a dance and twice she accepted, simply for any excuse to escape the stifling tension that seemed to cling to Edward like a second coat. Four sets later, and breathless, she slipped away from the blazing lights and heated bodies to the cool reprieve of the Vauxhall gardens.
The shadowed paths, hemmed in by a thick canopy of giant elms and dense foliage of bushes provided a modicum of privacy in a bustling place as the Retonda was on this night. Certain she was alone, she took a seat on a wooden bench and massaged her tired calves, aching from all the dancing. That was far more dances than she had ever accepted in such a short span of time, and her inexperience was telling.
Just then, the sound of footsteps behind her shattered the stillness.
“Alice.” Edward’s voice, low and steady, carried through the shadows. He was closer than she’d realized, his figure emerging beneath the dim light of the dome. “May I have a word?”
She hesitated, her hand tightening on the folds of her skirts. “W-why?”
Rubbing his face, Edward said, “Because I am a massive fool, Alice, the enormity of it has been detailed by my brother, my friend, and sleepless nights that have annoyed Atticus to no end.”
“Edward…” She reached out but stopped before touching his arm. “What are you saying?”
His breath hitched as though he were grasping for words that refused to come easily. “I—I am saying I have been a coward,” he confessed, his tone raw. “I have hidden behind excuses, behind walls I once believed to be as unyielding as granite, but were, in truth, as porous as limestone.” He let out a rough laugh, dragging a knuckle over his furrowed brow. “The reasoning I clung to, the barriers I built between my heart and my head—”
Footsteps headed their way, and Edward clamped his lips tight as Benedict and Penelope walked to them, whispering and laughing.
“Perfect timing,” Benedict clapped. “The fireworks display is about to begin. We should head that way now. There is a clearing with fewer trees that obstruct the view, that way we can see the fireworks in their full splendor.”
A tick jumped in Edward’s jaw at the unexpected interruption, but graciously, he turned to the two lovebirds and smiled, “Lead the way.”
Benedict looked between them; one brow lifted to his hairline. “Had we…interruptedsomething?”
Alice shook her head, “No—”
“Yes,” Edward corrected. “But we can pick it up when we get a moment of privacy.”
Turning his head to Penelope, the two seemed to conduct a silent conversation before Benedict took to the path that led to a wide field. Some of the guests from the Rotunda were gathered there while guests of the working class and casual visitors milled, eager to catch glimpses of bright lights.
